Legend has it that legendary pro-golfer Arnold Palmer's preferred beverage was a 50/50 iced tea to lemonade mix. The legend is so pervasive that you can order this drink by name. Tell your server, "I'll have an Arnold Palmer" and they know exactly what you mean.
As if this wasn't evidence enough, there is a drink that is a mix of iced tea and lemonade that is marketed and sold with this name and Mr. Palmer's likeness on the package. So it must be true, right? Who knows? A more investigative journalist than myself would certainly dive down that worm hole. But it's a Sunday. I'm just not feeling it.
However, today would have been the Hall of Fame duffer's 94th birthday. That brought to mind the one time I waited on Mr. Palmer.
My decades in the hospitality industry have presented me with numerous opportunities to wait on, or cook for, a long list of famous people. I even keep a list on my phone. Some are world famous, such as Sting, or Arnold Palmer. Some are notorious, like Jeb MacGruder, one of the Republican crooks who served time for the Watergate scandal.
Almost always management cautions you about making a big deal about them or even acknowledging who they are. Take Sting for instance. He stayed at a hotel I bartended at for a week before kicking off his 2016 World Tour. I served him more than once. But there was nary any acknowledgment that he was, in fact, fucking Sting of The Police!!
So it was with Mr. Palmer, as well. I had picked up a bartending side gig at The Memorial, a huge PGA golf tournament founded by Jack Nicklaus at Muirfield Village. A course Mr. Nicklaus built and designed. The tournament is a big event that employs tons of people. I have no idea how many they employ that week for serving food and drinks but it's A LOT!
Not only had I managed to weasel myself bar work but I also managed to land some plum assignments. I worked a reception attended solely by the golfers and the media. Nick Faldo, Tiger Woods, etc. Frankly, I'm sure my list of luminaries I've waited on would be longer if I actually recognized more PGA players. But I don't really follow it that closely.
My daily assignment was inside the clubhouse. Actual club members, and their guests, only, please. Much slower paced than the public bars outside. Probably less money but also less craziness.
While filling orders for the service bar a group came in and pushed some bar tables together. Management was tittering about as if these we're important folks. I quickly scanned the crowd and saw that one of those guests was Arnold Palmer! Arnold 'fricking' Palmer!
As I moved to gather myself to approach the table a manager sidled up and told me that Mr. Nicklaus's son was entertaining the Palmers. My knee jerk reaction was, "You mean, I get to serve Arnold Palmer an Arnold Palmer?" Funny, right? Not to this guy. I was met with a terse, "We don't call it that here." Apparently I had forgotten that I was knee deep in the high cotton. Important to remember that I was "The Help". At least, important to that manager.
It's important to note that the majority of famous folks I've waited on were much more relaxed, laid back, and personable, than the managers implied. You're not supposed to ask for photos or autographs which I totally get. But, not quite yet President Joe Biden couldn't have been nicer when I walked up behind him and said, Mr. Biden! (He was walking away from me. How else could I get his attention? And where was the Secret Service? LOL) He turned, extended his hand, looked me in the eye, and talked.
The Nicklaus/Palmer party was nice and polite. Mr. Palmer was downright affable. I established my pivot point between him and his wife. Her on my left, I worked clockwise so that I could get his drink order last. There was a variety of soft drinks and cocktails. Finally I came to Mr. Palmer. The big moment. "And for you sir?" Waiting for him to say it. Everything seemed to go into slow motion. My pen poised over my pad. Ready to write the words Arnold Palmer. It was at this point that he said, "I'd like a Diet Coke".
To this day I'm not sure if my face showed shock or disappointment. A Diet Coke? How could that be? This was Arnie! The man for whom a non-alcoholic beverage that surely existed before he became famous was named after. But there it was. I'd written it down. And when I delivered it to him he said thank you.
Maybe the stories weren't true. Maybe he had grown to hate them? Or hate that it was named after him? He seemed so pleasant that it was hard to imagine he disliked anything. He seemed like the kind of grandfather everyone wishes they had. Whatever the story is, that's my Arnold Palmer story. So Happy Birthday Mr. Palmer. Maybe he's in heaven having an Arnold Palmer. Or, a Diet Coke.
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